Royal Flush
by TopKat
Summary: Despite everything, somewhere there had been a hope of humanity in those brief, fleeting moments - and now, someone was going to pay. XigLux.oneshot.


"Royal Flush." Luxord smirked and laid his hand down, gently entwining his fingers. "It's over, mate."

Xigbar wrinkled his nose and threw his own hand down, sighing at the mound of munny in the middle of the table, as Luxord raked it in. They had no chips – they were lucky for the card deck, and even that was Luxord's special, treasured pack – some assumed it was a remnant from his past. Xigbar knew better, but he was the only one, save Luxord himself, who did.

"Could we stop playing, now? You win every time."

"All the more reason to keep playing. See if you can beat me."

"I can't. This is over. G'night."

Luxord huffed and gathered the pack together, shuffling idly as Xigbar tightened his eyepatch and pushed himself wearily away from the table. No one else would play at this time of night.

"Spoilsport. All's fair in love and war, you know!"

Xigbar turned around, halfway out of the door. "This is war." He smirked. "But I'll battle you tomorrow, alright, Lux? I know you can go all night, but-" He yawned. "Clearly, I can't. All that sun. Makes you sleepy, yanno?"

Luxord laughed. "There's no sun."

"I had more than enough when I had a heart, alright? Every minute out of the lab…" He spread his arms and mimicked surfing, a nostalgic grin on his face. Luxord just laughed.

"You _are_ tired. Go."

"Ugh. Axel and the fucking squirt keep me up all night. At least now, they'll both be asleep."

"Wouldn't bet on it."

Xigbar turned again, to finally leave, but Luxord – still sitting at the table, still shuffling between gloved hands – called him back.

"Good game, Xig. Nearly had me."

Xigbar laughed derisively. "As if." He smirked. "But thanks, old bean." He mocked the englishman's accent, chuckling. "Same time tomorrow?"

Luxord nodded in assent, still shuffling, looking down at the cards.

XxX

There was a blur of alcohol some nights.

They might not have had emotions, but rum, pillaged from Port Royal, affected them all the same, in varying strengths. The lightweights left quickly – Demyx, Roxas, and, surprisingly, Lexaeus, all left quickly, leaving Xigbar, Saïx, Luxord and Axel, looking a little lost without his ill-gotten limpet.

The four of them slumped unhappily and tried to ignore that Larxene had drunk more than them and still been almost completely sober, electing to leave alongside not just one, but _two_ Port Royal pirates, who were both very interested and more than slightly tipsy.

To consider it too deeply was to wound what little masculinity they managed to maintain, in identical leather coats. Luxord approximated that he was the second-luckiest male organization member, considering his facial hair – though he had none of Lexaeus' rocky muscle, it counted for _something_. He looked about, despairing of his fellows. Clearly, there was something dissipating in the organization, and it wasn't just sanity.

He doubted there had been much to begin with, anyway.

Fuzzy chin resting on one hand, he elbowed Xigbar. "I am bored as arses, Xig." He muttered, slurring only slightly. He could hold his alcohol – and he'd had slightly less than everyone else. Xigbar, clearly, couldn't and hadn't. He breathed heavily first, breath dank and heavy with rum.

"What?" He was being loud, too loud, and Luxord's ears hurt at first.

"I said." He took a pregnant pause for himself, ever selfish. "That I am bored as arses." He sighed. "And I'm leaving. Come with?"

"Sure." The volume decreased from what it had been initially – still obnoxious, but less so. Xigbar stood shakily, but stood anyway, feeling obviously proud to have done so. Luxord glanced wearily at him.

"C'mon, mate. We'll get you some coffee. Best thing for sobering fast."

"Ah, don't bother. M'fine." Xigbar smiled and promptly fell over after his first step, laughing. He righted himself, giggling uncharacteristically, then clutched his mouth, ran haphazardly for the 'privy' and – obviously – proceeded to empty himself. Luxord followed him, equally weary as before, and stood beside Xigbar as he prepared – slowly – to vomit. He leaned on the wall, hands behind his back, wondering absently if the others, back in the bar, were asleep or dead. Xigbar drew back, Luxord noticed his long, loose hair and gently, instinctively took hold of the ponytail, holding it away as Xigbar did his business.

Afterwards, the sharpshooter was surprisingly sober and coherent – they wandered out of the pub, Xigbar only swaying slightly, and sat by the dock in the cool air until they were wide awake, their backsides frozen stiffly to the cobblestones that lined every single street in Port Royal. Xigbar was the first to speak, after a long while, and in retrospect Luxord felt it was the most appropriate thing he'd ever heard.

"It's really cold."

Far from eloquent, but no less true. Luxord shifted himself, wincing that the almost pleasant, numbed sensation disappeared with every movement, encouraging the cold to return. He rubbed his arms with gloved hands. "Yes." Was all he could manage at the moment, and he felt like a traitor to gentlemen everywhere for it.

"No, I mean _really _cold."

"I know."

"I've never _been_ this cold."

"I know."

"No, I mean-"

"Xigbar, you're pissed. Please be quiet."

The silence reigned for a few more moments, until Luxord himself grew sickened by it, hearing the burble of the tavern behind, even, begin to quieten. He stared out to sea. "You look very appropriate in this town, you know."

"Thankyou. I do my best." There was a hint of amusement in Xigbar's voice, sober enough, now, to get the joke. "You _sound_ appropriate."

"It _is_ where I grew up."

"Oh yeah."

"What about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"Where did you start out?"

"We travelled. I barely remember. Somewhere with waves, then the lab, then…this. You know where the lab was." Xigbar shrugged.

"You seriously remember nothing else?"

"Barely nothing. I remember when the memory is called upon, nothing more."

"Mm." Silence began to entrap them again, and Luxord almost panicked for the loss. He nudged Xigbar, almost enough to send the dark-haired man flying into the port's open water – but not quite. "Don't fall asleep."

"I wasn't!"

"You were." Luxord nodded knowingly, then produced his pack of cards with a flourish. "Go Fish?"

"Fuck off." Xigbar frowned, nose and lips curling. "You win everything."

"I try not to. It's a curse, having no challenge, you know."

"Oh, it _must_ be." Xigbar was derisive. "It's _so_ difficult, being good at things."

"I wasn't kidding." Luxord looked at the cards. "I mean it, though, when I say our games are close."

"How close?"

"Closer than anyone else in this place."

Xigbar liked the sound of that. He leaned back a little, smirking. "Better than the Superior?"

Luxord caught his eye and nodded, laughing at how pleased he seemed. "That's not hard, you know. He barely plays."

"Don't rob me of this, little man. I'm loving it far too much."

"Cards are hardly going to help you when it comes to hearts, are they?"

"Says _you_."

"That's different. I mean things like _Gin_ and _Go fish_. Not much help, in the long run, really – are they?"

There was silence, this time comfortable and cold, and Luxord felt himself drifting off, the rum still warm in his stomach. Xigbar looked pretty much the same – he woke himself hesitantly, and touched Xigbar's arm, taking his wrist and pulling the other man up so they could stand on the cobbles, neither having the audacity to mention their frozen arses.

Luxord released him carefully, aware of a violent lurch and a quick trip into the waters below – but nothing of the sort happened. Xigbar merely smirked, looking at Luxord in an almost disconcertingly accurate way – with only one eye, he still made contact.

"C'mon, or we'll never be able to teleport straight."

XxX

They were, a lot of the time, ridiculously bored.

Demyx would often try to instigate a sing-along; Axel would suggest orgies, no matter the location. Saïx, if he could take his head out of the superior's arse long enough, would snarl and suggest that they all 'did something _useful_, for once'. No one except Larxene, yet, had dared to suggest that favors – of the sexual nature – to their superior was hardly gaining anything on kingdom hearts.

Larxene was lucky she was so fast.

These times of boredom came little and often, striking for short, unbearable periods of time and then dissipating entirely – before returning again minutes later with renewed vigor. It was one of the longer periods in which they were all sitting together, that one particular incident occurred.

The headquarters was depleted – the Castle of Oblivion operation had begun, so the prescences of Vexen, Marluxia, Larxene, Axel, Lexaeus and Zexion were felt rarely, if at all – much to Roxas' apparent, slightly wistful relief.

Far from having the pride number thirteen did, Demyx often despaired openly for 'his Zexy', embarassing both himself and everyone around him.

So it was with a heavy atmosphere of doom that the remaining members gathered in the main hall. As per usual, Saïx and Xemnas were missing, leaving a small number left in the hall. Xigbar sat watching as Roxas and Luxord argued heatedly over who would come back from Castle Oblivion in one piece. He jumped, however, when he was called upon.

"'Ey, Xig! What's your bet? The squirt-" Roxas grunted idignantly – "The squirt says Axel and Larxene are getting back!"

Xigbar rose from his chair; all the chairs had floated to the foot of the hall – less impressive than they had been before, but easier to manouvre. He walked over to the other end, where Luxord and Roxas were sat, and stopped in front of them, tapping his chin.

"Larxene, definitely. Spitfire if ever I saw one. Not Marly. Not Zexion-" There was an anguished, overdramatic cry from Demyx – "Vexen, for definite." He shrugged. "Axel's not all that strong, yanno? One hit from Larxene and he's _down_." He made a 'down' gesture with his hand, swooping it to the floor. "Sorry."

Roxas looked moody, typically teenage, prompting Luxord to laugh at him.

"Look, cheer up, kid. S'not the end of the world. Maybe _none_ of them will come back."

"My god." Xigbar interjected, mock horror on his face. "We'll be Organization Seven! Hardly as badass."

"Mm-hm." Luxord conceded lazily. "But maybe we'll all get a promotion?"

"Not me." Xigbar grinned, loving this part. "Number two. Oh yes."

Luxord ignored him and turned to Roxas. "You'd go up by about seven ranks! Worth losing the beanpole?"

Roxas looked as if he would argue, but shrugged instead, choosing to look at his hands almost obsessively, twining them together and messing with his hair alternately, pulling out strands. Luxord and Xigbar looked at eachother, twin expressions on their faces.

"Kid, if you keep doing that, you'll go bald."

Roxas just 'hmm'ed and kept doing it, leading Luxord to shrug and pat the seat next to him, prompting Xigbar to sit down.

"What'd you do if I'd been chosen for Oblivion, then, Xig?"

Xigbar shrugged. "Nothing. You'd come back."

XxX

There was a scent of betrayal in them all, of course.

When Axel was the only one who came back from Oblivion, Demyx refused to leave his room for weeks, grieving. It took an almost unreal reality and injected It into their lives – no-one had ever died before. A solemn comaderie and an air of understanding emanated from them all – a grudging respect of Axel was evident. He'd done what he had to, and was not ashamed. The only person who seemed to have a problem was Roxas, who was seen without his redheaded counterpart in the aftermath, looking angry and betrayed.

Out of respect, almost, numbers, titles and ranks stayed the same. It took awhile for things to go back to normal – and even then, no-one trusted anyone else. Not like before. Demyx became withdrawn – those who had been closer to them – for example, Roxas and Larxene, who between them had grown a gruding respect – true mourning took place. Seriousness pervaded the silliness that had grown to prevent boredom.

Luxord saw very little of Xigbar in the weeks that followed.

They had separate missions. Being the second in command, inherently, Xigbar was feared for the first time. Before, he had been one of them. Afterwards, they hardly knew _what _he was. Luxord himself found there was scrutiny, a tinge of fear, around himself, also – for being…close? Friendly? Well-aquainted? – Whatever, with Xigbar.

He found Xigbar in his room one day, searching through his belongings.

"Orders are orders." The one-eyed gunman had said, and suddenly, Luxord knew where they stood. The tinge of sadness in Xigbar's voice had told him so. It didn't make him happy.

XxX

Xigbar kissed him when there were just four left.

XxX

There was a meeting room, a new one, when the dust – for the moment – had cleared. Saïx and Xemnas were calm, frighteningly so. Luxord slammed into the room – he threw the various baubles, magical things, hard, into the wall, remembered anger coursing through his veins.

"That little _bastard_." He muttered, when Xemnas raised one eyebrow at his behaviour.

Despite it all, there had been something in there. Some hope of humanity, and one little boy had destroyed it.

_Someone_ was going to pay.


End file.
